


And a Vulcan in a Pear Tree

by Canon_Is_Relative



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Christmas, Gen, Pointless, Random & Short, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 05:43:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1090287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canon_Is_Relative/pseuds/Canon_Is_Relative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Half the crew of the <i>Enterprise</i> is sick the week before Christmas, including Jim, who whines and complains until Bones takes a minute to sit with him. Bones is missing his daughter, and Jim has some very merry schemes in mind for his upcoming shore leave with an unsuspecting Vulcan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And a Vulcan in a Pear Tree

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Melissa of the GallifreyanMarket](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Melissa+of+the+GallifreyanMarket).



> Just a little drabble I wrote for the curator of [This Fantastic Etsy Shop](https://www.etsy.com/shop/GallifreyanMarket?ref=pr_shop_more), in hopes she gets better soon to enjoy her own very merry Christmas!

“I swear, Jim, there’s only one person on this ship who’s more stubborn about taking his medicine than you are, and trust me you won’t like the comparison.”

 

Jim grinned weakly, holding up the tiny vial of foul-smelling liquid. “He wouldn’t happen to have pointy ears, would he?”

 

“Right in one, captain. I had to chase that green-blooded hobgoblin down in his own quarters and practically tackle him to get the serum in him.”

 

“That I would have given a lot to see.” 

 

“Well he’s already thanking me, he’s in tip-top pointy shape and back on the bridge. Unlike the only other person in this room who’s refused to take his meds willingly.”

 

Jim groaned and downed the medicine in one gulp, then reached for the glass of water by his bedside. “Everyone else gets to take it by hypo. I have an excuse for hating it.” Jim rinsed his mouth again and grinned up at Bones, considering telling him that the only reason he’d put up such a fuss about the medicine was that he knew it was a sure-fire way to get Bones to take a break, sit by his bedside, make idle conversation for a few minutes. 

 

“Excuse my Georgia ass,” Bones grumbled, picking up his tricorder and taking new readings on Jim. “You know, If you’d go to a real allergist they might be able to work up what’s wrong with you that you can’t take half the normal meds by hypo, but no…”

 

“Bones, get that out of my face,” Jim tried to wave him away and sit up, though the effort drained him. “I’m already feeling better.”

 

Bones didn’t even bother qualifying that with a response. After another minute, he set down his instruments and lowered himself into the chair by Jim’s bed with a long sigh of relief. “Well this just beats me to hell, Jim. How we managed to pick up such a virulent strain that’s affecting the crew even across species lines. This is sure gonna put a damper on shore leave for those not lucky enough to blessed with a Vulcan’s iron constitution.” 

 

McCoy shook his head and leaned back, reaching behind himself, into his desk drawer, pulling out a half-empty bottle of Saurian brandy.  At Jim’s hopeful look he glared at him. “You’ve been down with a case of Andorian flu for three days, Jim, this is not for you.”

 

“Oh, c’mon, Bones, it’s got its medicinal purposes. After that swill you just made me drink, I think you owe me.”

 

Bones shook his head, muttering to himself about captains with death wishes while he poured a sizable glass for himself before stowing the bottle back in his desk. “And now you’re reminding me of someone else. You’re near as good at wheedling me as my daughter.” He took a long sip of his brandy, cocking his head at Jim. “And she’s all of eight years old, though to hear her talk you’d think she was sixteen-going-on-thirty.”

 

Jim pulled a face, trying to relax back into his pillows,  in the middle of the room. “Does your daughter ever tell you you have a terrible bedside manner?” Jim scowled at his CMO, keeping his voice low in the sickroom hush.

 

Bones chuckled slightly and shook his head. “Maybe once or twice, though I think her words were more along the lines of, ‘ _Mommy_ would make a deal with me. _Mommy_ would let me have candy after taking my medicine.’”

 

Jim couldn’t help the grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth as Bones sighed and shook his head, his eyes very far away. The silence stretched between them in the lull of their conversation and Jim began to grow aware again of the dismal sounds around them - the chirp of medical equipment, the sterile hiss of doors opening and closing, the muted murmurs from the medstaff milling around the dozen occupied beds - so he broke the silence without thinking. “You don’t talk about her much. Joanna. Some days I forget you have a kid.”

 

McCoy’s smile went from wistful to pained he muttered into his glass, “Well what’s it been since we were home, near a year?”

 

Jim reached out to grip his arm. “I know, Bones. It’s hard on everyone with a family Earthside.”

 

Bones shrugged. He was probably trying to look nonchalant but his expression stalled out somewhere between self-reproach and painful resignation. “I miss her like hell, but that’s the job, isn’t it.”

 

Jim began to nod, then stopped when his head started swimming. Through a dizzy haze, he squinted at Bones. “Only another week, though, Bones! One week and then a month of leave. Home for Christmas, what more could you ask for?”

 

Bones snorted, rolling his eyes. “Maybe not to fly this contraption so far out into the middle of nowhere that it takes a Christmas miracle to get us home?”

 

Jim shrugged, holding up his hands in surrender. “So you’re going straight home to Georgia, then?”

 

“You’re damn right I am. Staying put and spending as much time as I can with my baby girl. You?”

 

“Iowa,” Jim said stifling a groan as he lay back down. The medicine was starting to kick in, dulling the pain and dragging him towards his first hope of restful sleep in almost a week. He cracked one eye open to look up at Bones. “And…I’m taking Spock with me.”

 

Bones arched an eyebrow. “Well. At least you’ll have someone along to run after you and make you take your meds.”

 

Jim chuckled. “He’ll turn out to be a worse mother hen than you, Bones, I’d bet you anything. He’ll make me that foul Vulcan tea and keep me wrapped up in blankets by the fire.”

 

McCoy’s other eyebrow rose to join the first. “Well, that should be…festive?”

 

Jim grinned. “ _He_ says he’s coming along to observe the Terran cultural traditions he’s heard so much about. And _I’m_ going to take every opportunity of pushing him into a snowbank.”

 

Bones crowed with laughter. “What can I pay you to make sure you get a picture of him drinking eggnog and wearing a santa hat?”

 

“Oh,” Jim said, his voice slurring as his eyes closed again, “I’ve already got it all planned out.”

 

“‘Course you do, Jim-boy,” Bones said, pushing himself to his feet and squeezing his shoulder. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”


End file.
